


oh, the river, it's running free

by wanderlustlover



Category: Hawaii Five-0 (2010)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-26
Updated: 2012-12-26
Packaged: 2017-11-22 12:19:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,310
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/609752
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wanderlustlover/pseuds/wanderlustlover
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Early on in Steve and Danny's relationship, when they're just getting the hang of weekends with Grace, Steve decides to be a little ... cruel to be kind.</p>
            </blockquote>





	oh, the river, it's running free

**Author's Note:**

> Title from Florence + The Machine's _Heartlines_
> 
> No beta, all mistakes are mine.

“Steve,” It was glorious, and desperate, “Steve,” trapped in hot breath, smothered into his shoulder. “I’m going to-“

But the next word never came, nor did Danny, as he suddenly went rigid at the sound of three small knocks in soft, rapid succession. He froze like someone had dipped him in ice, jerking his hand from Steve’s skin like it’d lit on fire, but he hadn’t jumped back entirely this time. 

Steve, who hadn’t moved, or let go, had to appreciate that Danny hadn’t fallen off the bed this time, too. Which, yeah, okay, it’d only happened the one time so far. But it was kind of hilarious. Endearing. Equalizing. 

These weekends ended up being a learning curve for both of them.

“Danno?” The little voice came next. 

Steve knew he shouldn’t. Pretty much before the name had even finished. When he pushed up a little on the arm under him, at the same time as he did two very different things. He opened his mouth and called out, “Yeah? Grace?”

The second, his hand tightened around Danny’s skin sliding right back into the same rhythm it had been at only two or three seconds ago. So that the door to his bedroom slid open, tentatively, and Grace’s head appeared between it and the door jam, fluffy haired and in pajama’s still, against the back drop of Danny fingers becoming steel girders.

Those fingers scrabbling for purchase, while Danny gave a strangled whimper–hiss as that hand went straight to digging blunted fingertips and sharp nails into Steve’s hip. 

“My cartoons are almost half done,” Grace said, as Steve continued to look at her, straight through the pain, without flinching. “And I finished the cereal?”

She looked adorable, nervously uncertain about admitting it. Maybe almost as compelling as that shiver wracking Danny’s body under his hand, or the look of panicked fury right at the edge of his vision where Danny’s seemed to have gone red, struggling with which reaction to choose or not get flattened by. 

“I’ve got lots of stuff.” Steve said, easily, smiling broad and bright. “What would you like? Did you want us to make something?” 

Grace seemed to think about it for a moment. A little shy as she asked, “Mom usually has eggs and bacon on the weekend? And toast?”

“We can totally do that,” Steve said, his wrist burning a little with continuing to stroke Danny hard and fast without moving much of the rest of his upper arm or shoulder, so as not to give it away. “Right, Danno?” 

Except he really wasn’t all that cruel as to actually make him answer. Especially when looking down at him, was going to make Steve’s smile lose all its control. He looked back at Grace, nodding his head. Like Danny might have been asleep or something else. 

Something other than right on the edge of screaming at him, or going purple from not breathing, or shuddering into his hand, like his body was waging a war against any sanity left in him. Demanding to let go. 

He simply added, “Give us a few minutes and we’ll be right down. “

“Thanks, Uncle Steve,” Grace answered, with that flash of her big, bright while smile, before turning on her heels, and leaving with a click of the door behind her.

Somewhere in the vicious, clotted gasp for air in the next second, there was the wholly dangerous explosion of, “I hate you,” right as Steve started sliding his hand faster and harder. Making those words, angry and broken and so hot. Danny’s breath shuddering with his body, again, making it a winded, tattering mantra, “I hate you, I – _oh god, Steve, I_ – you have no concept of – I hate you, I hate you.”

Steve knows he must have been distracted to miss when she was coming up, but he waits for the creaking set of stairs to tell her she’s gone down. Only then actually moving more. Shifting up, letting go only long enough to thrust the sheet from over Danny and shove him on his back. 

“You keep telling yourself that,” Steve said back, even as he prized every single word of it.

Because every single word of it was not _Get off_ or _Stop touching me, you maniac_. When he’s contorting with a twist, without shifting positions, one hand on Danny’s side, and one hand mired at the base of his cock in sweat-slick dark blonde curls. He took Danny’s head in his mouth deep, hard and fast, knowing it wouldn’t be long. 

It might have been liberal to say it took even a minute, before there was a shout being muffled in a pillow as Danny’s hips jerked hard against his chin and his mouth was full of salty, sharpness. When he’s riding out the spasms of Danny’s skin, sucking gently, before pulling away from skin that will have gone intensely sensitive. 

Steve raised a hand, wiping the edge of his mouth with the knuckles on the back of his hand as his eyes went to Danny’s face. Half buried in the pillow, shoulders slumped all boneless. Eyes fluttering like he may have been trying to focus on something, but couldn’t yet, leaving Steve sitting there watching him, overly satisfied with himself. 

He shifted, moving toward his side of the bed, only to have a hand flop out against his leg.

“Hey.” Was beyond winded and woozy, thick with more cotton than the pillow under Danny’s head. “Where’re--” Which was where the question seemed to end, even though Danny’s fingers, devoid of any grip yet, twitched against his own bare skin. Eyes, gone electric blue, not even focused on him, so much as in the direction of him, in the flickers when they weren’t closing on him.

“I have to make eggs, remember?” Steve said, goadingly. Even as he leaned back over across half the bed. His own hand finding the side of Danny’s jaw and tipping his head, to kiss him. All the more amused at the disoriented time relay between Danny realizing something was happening and able to do anything. 

“But you-“ There was a flop of that hand at his thigh. “I didn’t.” Raising and falling, like he’d tried to use it to make a point and found it a lead weight at the end of his arm, like his brain inside his head. “Cooking.” Which was followed by something mumbled like _pfft_. 

It really was hard to say which he liked better honestly. 

Danny, desperate, pleading his name and frantically thrusting into him. His hand, his mouth, his body. Or this. Danny laid out, after, smacked so hard by an orgasm that he couldn’t make his mouth or his hands, the things that never stopped moving, even figure out how to work for him at all anymore. 

When he can probably guess what those first things were in reference to, but he doesn’t care. Because he gets this. Both of those, back to back. The room, and Danny, and he gets to go make Grace eggs. Which will probably entail making a fool of himself as he does it, just to make her laugh. Before Danny will barge in and insult his inability to cook anything and take over. 

When this might all be the best way to start a Saturday, even if he’s sure he’ll get an earful after Danny’s found his brain and Grace is distracted or dropped off with Rachel. 

But that can all wait another second. He can steal a second kiss from Danny’s slow, warm mouth, before saying, “You should come join us downstairs once you’ve managed to wake up and clean yourself off.” 

“Still hate you,” was muttered right into his mouth. Closer to a sentence and a glassy glare.

“Yeah,” Steve laughed, getting off the bed this time. “I can see that.”


End file.
